Tis the season to be trashy. Now the festive fun has finished and we’re all nailed to our sofas — skint, suffering the January blues, pretending to give up booze and finding excuses not to hit the gym — TV types are trying to stop us slashing our wrists by stuffing the schedules with celeb reality tut.

Celebrity Big Brother was first out of the blocks and is already in full swing. And I’m not just referring to Dappy’s pendulous penis, dangling between his legs and making horses so jealous that they hoof him in the face.

Apprentice runner-up Luisa Zissman, TOWIE type Sam Faiers and “glamour” model Casey Batchelor are jostling to stare at their own spherical boobs in the mirrors. At this early stage, saucer-eyed, self-flagellating columnist Liz Jones is starting to seem like the sane one. Even more worryingly, Lee Ryan from Blue and Ollie Locke from Made In Chelsea look the most likely winners.

We've also seen diving farrago Splash! belly-flop back onto our screens, then get dragged underwater by co-host Vernon Kay’s godawful gags. Vern’s gunning to get Brucey’s Strictly gig when the old-stager finally pops his dancing clogs and seems to have employed the same “joke”-writer. Thankfully, the lanky irritant’s LOL-free one-liners could barely be heard above the hormone-addled screeching at Tom Daley’s every move. Sorry to tell you this, teenage girls of Britain, but you’re not quite Tom’s type.

The chlorine-scented, verruca-socked contest is filmed in a Luton leisure centre and it’s about as glamorous as that sounds. Still, don’t underestimate the appeal of seeing celebs in their swimming cozzies, crapping themselves on the high board. Ratings hit a respectable 5.5m and those viewers can’t all have been Gemma Collins’ "fans".

And, of course, Dancing On Ice completed the hat-trick of fame-hungry desperation. This is the last ever series of the C-list skate-off and rightly so. It’s long, dull and has the distinct feel of “daytime Sky1” about it. Not even Tony Gubba’s demented commentary or judge Jason Gardiner’s gratuitous bitching can save it. The result’s a foregone conclusion too. If Scouse Chucky-from-Child’s Play lookalike Ray Quinn doesn’t win, I’ll don Jayne Torville’s tutu and do the Bolero down the aisles of my local Iceland. NB: not legally binding.

However, the carnival of crud doesn’t stop there. This triptych of trash will soon be joined by The Jump on Channel 4, which is basically Splash! in moonboots and a puffa gilet, as the likes of Amy Childs and Simon Cowell’s stalker Sinitta compete in winter sports.

Endless reality shows, populated by people off other reality shows and punctuated by endless ad breaks. It’s going to be a long, cold winter.

Head to Page 2 for Hogan's take on the endless recycling of old sitcoms...